A Tea Bag (to Michelle)


I see you in a tea bag, diffusing out
Like silver mists fogging my path of sight

I’m the water that needs your mahogany
A watery transparent world as empty

As the obsolete color in me.
And you slowly enter through my cracks

The hydrogen atoms that are joined
To oxygen in imperfect configurations.

And I can do no other, but let you dilute
Through me, a little blissed blend

Of orange pekoe, an unopened leaf bud
Flushing out to be a vessel

On my ventral ocean. A pekoe as orange
As the meticulous amber of your fiber.

Unfurling a leaf bud of superstition
In to a flavorsome science

Perfection has blossomed.


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